


Pinup Model Peril

by vipjuly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Please wear condoms IRL), (oh that's why lol), (why is that not an actual tag), Alternate Universe, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Confident Castiel (Supernatural), Flustered Dean Winchester, Gender fluid Castiel, M/M, Meet-Cute (kinda?), Other, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Pinup Model Castiel, Power Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Rimming, Unsafe Sex, eating ass, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipjuly/pseuds/vipjuly
Summary: Dean’s moved to a new town and has already registered his car for an All-American Classic Car Road Show. The move itself had been a real chore, so in order to perk himself up a bit, he may as well check the local scene and see what sort of trouble he and his trusted ol’ Baby can get into.Hint: No trouble.Double hint: Justperilin the form of a local pinup model.***NOW WITH FANART BYdontbelasagnax***
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 123
Kudos: 384





	Pinup Model Peril

**Author's Note:**

> the world is crazy right now, so here's a quick little pick-me-up.  
> cas's gender fluidity is somewhat modeled after my own. dean's already got an idea of what's going on so cas just makes themselves, in particular, the focal point, and does not represent the broad spectrum that is the gender umbrella.  
> this is just a piece to make you smile... and deliver the heat.

\--

Heaven on Earth. The scent of tarmac, hot motor oil in the air, smoke from the token car that shoots flames out of its exhaust. There’s no other place Dean wants to be. His sweet, sweet Baby was restored by his own two hands, a gift from his dad who could hold a job as well as he could take care of a car. 

Which wasn’t very good at all.

But Dean pulled Baby up from the wreckage; scrubbed off her iron buildup, hammered out the dents from misjudged parking spots, rebuilt her engine from the bolts up, replaced every single fuse so she never felt short of anything, and then finished her off with a repaint, a buff, and a shine. 

Yes, Dean’s 1967 Midnight Black Chevy Impala turns quite a few heads at the shows. She’s simple in her design; no flames, no spinners, no lift kit. Just an all-American classic beauty ready to purr for anyone who passes her by. 

Dean himself ain’t so bad to look at either, thank you very much, but the car show isn’t exactly swimming with young, hot, single people, so he lets all the attention fall on his sweet Baby so she can steal the show. 

Tonight he’s set to debut his car at the local show. He’s been in this town for three months; he’s a jack of all trades, ready for work anywhere, and uncle Bobby had a sweet deal with a buddy who owns a handmade furniture shop. They hired Dean right away, since uncle Bobby’s always ready to hold up his crappy, ten-year old flip phone and show anyone who’ll look photos of Dean’s work. It’s really sweet, even though Bobby pretends that he doesn’t actually give a hoot. 

The car show is being held at the local fairgrounds, ample of space on the tarmac for people to not only show their cars but have a little drag and a parade. Dean usually sits out of the parades, happy to hang out by his car and chat with anyone who asks questions, but he’d gone off the cuff and registered Baby to ride. He’s a little nervous and excited, like a kid ready to do his first talent show; if he sits for the parked show and then also does the parade, not a single soul will miss his Baby. 

Things are business as usual for the first hour. Dean alternates between sitting in a lawn chair, hanging out in the driver’s seat, and wandering to the surrounding cars. Everyone is friendly and chatty, though some of the dudes look like they could snap his neck with their big toe; honestly, Baby fits in perfectly, but on looks alone Dean is sort of the odd one out. He’s not the youngest, but at thirty-five with long eyelashes and a “pretty mouth” (not his words) he doesn’t really fit in. He wears jeans and flannel and can probably chug a beer faster than half the crowd, but, you know, people tend to judge a book by its cover. His car sort of evens it out, though, thankfully. 

“Hey,” he calls to his neighbor, a man with a wicked vintage Firebird. “Not to be that guy, but aren’t there supposed to be some pinup models here?” 

“Yeah,” the man replies. “They make their rounds so all the car owners have a chance to get a picture of them with their cars. Kinda like our goodie basket for participating. They gotta go aisle by aisle, though”

Dean nods. “Alright.” Pinup models aren’t one hundred percent his thing, but every car looks better with a beautiful dame next to it, and Dean’s got one of those fancy new phones with three cameras, so he thinks Baby would look extra slick next to another fine babe. He goes back to sitting in his lawn chair, taking a drink of water. This time in the evening isn’t too hot; but Dean moved from Kansas to California during the winter, so he’ll have a little bit of time to adjust before he gets blasted, he thinks. 

Another thirty minutes pass. Among the crowd he can see some coiffed hair, red scarves, and hear the clacking of high heels. The pinup models are finally here! And you know what, five years ago Dean would have been extra excited to see the ladies, but, in five years he’s matured very much (a divorce and a cross-country move will do that to you) and is more interested in the aesthetic of the models with the cars. 

Pat on the back, Dean, you done good.

As the models approach, they disperse to the cars. The sun is setting behind them, so Dean squints a little to try and see, giving up and pulling on his prescription sunglasses. They’re still silhouetted, so Dean stands up to wait at Baby’s nose, leaning against his car casually and folding his arms over his chest and sending out a charming smile. 

The model that turns towards his car is… woo- _wee_. 

_Legs_.

Red stiletto heels look _deadly_ against the black pavement. Sturdy, slender ankles - not too thin, but definitely prettily shaped. Calves encased in black pleather pants help Dean’s eyes go up, up, and shit, he’s doing a full once-over, but he can’t help it! The pleather pants are high-waisted, showing off wide hips, leading around to the curve of a tight ass and… oh, yeah. The skin on the midriff is tan, the hint of abs visible-

Mentally shaking himself, he continues his perusal. The button-up shirt is artfully undone and tied up to create a crop top, showing off the valley of… 

Pectoral muscles?

“Ahem.”

A deep, rough voice clears. Dean’s eyes snap up to a beautifully chiseled face: a strong jaw, cut cheekbones, lips stained cherry red, blushed cheeks, highlighter sparkling in the sun, winged eyeliner, false lashes, startling blue eyes-

Holy shit.

“Are you done?” The model asks, the tiniest hint of amusement in their voice. 

Dean’s pretty sure there’s a five o’clock shadow under perfectly pressed foundation, but calling this person a man doesn’t seem right. Female doesn’t seem quite right, either. What is this?

“I’m Dean,” he blurts, because he’s a fucking idiot.

The model’s lips quirk in amusement, their arms folding over their chest as their hips cock and their feet adjust to the position. Hot damn, whatever this person identifies as, they are _stunning_.

“I’m Cas.” They arch a brow, their short, dark brown hair styled prettily with a red scarf tied around their head. 

“Right.” Dean wipes his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans. 

Shifting a little, Cas nods towards Baby. “Sixty-eight?” 

“Seven,” Dean squeaks out. He clears his throat a few times, lifting his fist to very badly attempt to cover up the sound. “Sixty-seven. Um- you… uh…” 

The amused quirk of Cas’s lips tilts even further. “Do you have something you would like to ask me, Dean?” 

“Well- do- uh, do you- are you… is this… uhhhhhh…” Literally all of Dean’s brain cells vacate the premise until finally, he latches onto, “You come here often?” 

Cas drops their arms from their fold, turning expertly on high heels to start rounding the hood of Baby’s car, unbothered by Dean’s idiotic fumblings. “Every year for this show. This is your…” Cerulean eyes glimmer a little dangerously. “First time?” 

It takes about a whole minute to swallow the lump in his throat. “Just moved to town a couple months ago.” 

“‘Moved to town’,” Cas repeats. They continue their tour, eyes now focused on the car as they speak casually. “That’s something country boys say. Are you a country boy,” blue eyes flash at Dean over the top of the car, “ _Dean_?” 

He wobbles on his feet, suddenly dizzy. 

Cas laughs, a deep and melodious sound, before they round the trunk of the car. “I’m what people like to call a ‘diverse hire’. All sorts of models get hired for this show. Different races, sizes, orientations,” again, their eyes cut to Dean, before they finally come up to the driver’s side door, a few feet away from him, “...genders.” 

“Can I-” he licks his lips, boiling from the inside out. He reaches up to scrub his mouth, feeling a little frazzled. “Look, I know it’s fun to pick on the hick, but I’m a little outta my element here, and you’re really-” he cuts himself off, pressing his palm over his mouth.

“I’m really what?” Cas asks innocently, probably knowing exactly what Dean was about to say. 

“You’re really…” Dean chances a glance at them. “Stunning.” 

That seems to surprise Cas. Whatever they were expecting Dean to say, that wasn’t it. “Stunning?” They repeat.

“Yeah,” Dean says a little breathlessly, feeling bold. “You’re gorgeous. I’ve seen a lotta pinup models, y’know, given my hobby n’ shit, but I’ve never seen someone like you.”

Cas gives him a slightly puzzled look. They seem to debate how to reply, before they say with a little less confidence than before, “That’s… very nice of you to say, Dean.”

Dean frowns. “Do people not say nice things to you?” 

“I spend a lot of time reading the crowd to see who wants me posed next to their cars,” they admit with a small, slightly self-conscious shrug. 

Dean’s frown turns a little angry. “Assholes don’t want you next to their cars.” He turns his nose up a bit. “Baby would be _honored_ to pose with you.” 

Cas chews their red lower lip. Dean’s flummoxed at the fact no lipstick gets on their teeth. After a moment, he can see the confidence bleed back into Cas’s posture as their spine straightens and their hips lead them forward. 

“Tell you what,” Cas says. “I’ll let you take as many photos as you want if you let me ride in the parade with you.” 

“Done,” Dean says easily. 

“ _But_ ,” Cas says as a little grin curls their perfect, perfect lips. “We play twenty questions. Honest questions with honest answers. No lying.”

“How you gonna know if I’m lyin’?” Dean asks with a grin, liking this idea. 

Cas’s eyes dip down Dean’s body, “Something tells me it’s easy to tell if you’re fibbing.” 

Heat explodes through his nerves. “U-uh- well- I- uh-” 

Laughing, Cas pats the roof of the car gently. “Get your camera, Dean.” 

Dean grabs his phone out of the backpack next to his lawn chair. When he turns around Cas is adjusting their head scarf, back to Dean, and alright, ok. Listen. Dean’s eyes just sort of… naturally gravitate towards their ass, ok? The way the pleather is stretched tight over the curve, how the heels give it a little extra lift… 

Arms up, elbows out, fingers in the scarf, Cas’s body turns slightly to look over their shoulder at Dean. Their waist slims, their butt swells, their lips part as doe eyes look innocently towards him-

“First question,” Cas says, their innocent look wiping off their face in a split second as they send Dean an evil smile. “What’s your sexual orientation?”

He almost drops his phone. He fumbles it a few times before yanking it back to press it against his chest, laughing awkwardly as he shifts to walk a few paces away so he can open his camera app and start figuring out how to get Baby and Cas neatly in the frame without looking like a fucking idiot. “Right outta the gate, huh?” 

“You’re definitely not straight,” Cas says with a shrug. They walk their fingers across the hood, Dean noticing that they’re painted vinyl red to match their lips. “How do you want me?” 

“Blwhut?” Dean splutters. 

Cas sends him a flat look, though there’s a glint in their eyes. “With your car, Dean. For the photos?” 

“RIGHT-” Dean says loudly. He doesn’t even try to cover it up as he holds up his phone and changes a few settings on it. “You can- uh-” he looks at Cas over the phone, pursing his lips. “You can get… on her if you want. Just the parade is left and I can wipe off any smudges. Just go easy with your heels.” 

“Alright,” Cas says easily. They climb onto the hood of the car, careful as Dean could have ever asked them to be, before arranging themselves with their elbow on the windshield and their other hand on their hip, one knee bent slightly. It’s a, frankly, sexy pose, and the way they’re smiling at Dean lets him know that they know it. “Like this?” 

“Sure,” Dean says, doing his best to relax. His fingers are still a little sweaty though, his thumb leaving marks on his screen. He takes a few test shots, then moves around to find different angles, seeing what works best. After a few moments, he relaxes into it, and when he does, Cas does. 

Cas moves their body like they get paid to do it. Which is a stupid thought because they literally do. Dean’s not a pro by any means but it’s easy to fall into a rhythm of Cas slithering and slinking over Baby’s hood, roof, even standing next to her and draping over her prettily, ass and legs out and confident smirk or coy smile on display as they expertly narrow their waist and dodge between adding feminine curves and showing off broad shoulders. 

Boy oh boy. 

“You never answered,” Cas says, kicking a foot up for effect as they lean against his car, the sharp heel of their heel pressing cutely against the curve of their rear. 

“Bi,” Dean says with as much confidence as he can muster. 

Cas smiles almost predatorily, but says nothing. 

“You said honest questions with honest answers, right?”

“Mhm.” 

“So does… that include dumb questions from a country hick boy?” 

Cas’s eyes rove up and down Dean’s frame again. “I would say cowboy, but… yes.” 

“Right.” Dean coughs, feeling his ears burn and deciding to just go for it. “I don’t- um. You’re… what… I- I’m sorry. I think I read once that the proper… question… uh…” he snaps his fingers when he gets it. “What do you identify as?” Then immediately feels a flush of embarrassment. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, Dean,” Cas says with a low chuckle. “That’s a fine question.” They adjust themselves so that they lean against the front bumper, elbows behind them on the hood. They’re so beautiful. They can’t be more than twenty-five. “I don’t really identify as anything. Today I am embracing my more feminine side. Tomorrow I might be more masculine. Gender identity varies from person to person…” Cas shrugs, then sends Dean a faux-coy look when they see the wondrous expression on his face. “I actually consider myself an angel, Dean. A celestial wavelength, a warrior with sixteen flaming wings and three heads and-” 

Dean’s staring at Cas with wide eyes, jaw open.

Cas sends him a small smile. “I’m kidding. Whatever gender you refer to me as is not incorrect. Whatever feels right. Usually ‘they’ is fine, but if you refer to me as a ‘he’ it won’t offend me.” 

Nodding slowly, Dean tries to absorb the information. It’s not that hard to digest, actually. “I’ve never… like- man I feel like a jackass so just tell me if I ask somethin’ dumb, ok?” 

“It’s not dumb if you’re trying to get educated,” Cas says reasonably.

“Huh,” Dean nods. He takes a few photos, then shifts to walk around to the side of the car. “Alright. What um… what do they call you? Like what… um… like dudes who like dudes are gay, girls who like girls are lesbians. So you don’t really... “ he lets out a breath. 

“I am gender fluid,” Cas says, eyes following Dean as he moves. 

Dean nods, then licks his lips. “Uh, ok. That was a lot of questions. Um, what do you want to ask me?” 

“I think I’m getting a lot of answers without having to ask anything,” they say with a suggestive smile.

Rolling his eyes a little, Dean takes his sunglasses off and hangs them on the collar of his flannel. Now that the most awkward question is out of the way, he’s feeling more comfortable. Cas is just… easy to talk to, anyway, which is a nice change of pace from some of the more stuck up models he’s worked with in the past. “I’m gonna pop the hood.” He opens the passenger door, reaches for the crank, then calls out, “Watch yourself, sweetheart.” With the hood released he gets out, nodding in approval as Cas finishes propping the hood and then automatically starts posing with the engine. He reaches into his back pocket to grab a (clean) rag, holding it out towards Cas.

Sending him a coy smile, Cas plucks the rag out of his fingers. “Thanks, _sweetheart_.” 

Flushing, Dean snaps his hand back. “Sorry, habit-” 

Shaking their head, Cas laughs softly. “It’s fine, Dean. Relax. You don’t have to treat me any sort of special for any reason. I’m just me. And you’re,” their eyes dip down to Dean’s groinal area, “you.” Sending Dean a pleasant smile, Cas angles their body. “Now. Take my picture.”

Dean lifts his phone so fast it almost sails out of his hand. He reconfigures the camera settings, and honestly, he’s not a pro, but Cas makes it so damn easy to feel like it.

“My turn to ask you questions,” Cas says as they change poses. Damn, their legs are long. Arms strong. Fuck. 

“Shoot,” Dean says, voice wibbling slightly. 

“You’re bi,” Dean makes a positive noise in reply. “Are you single?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. 

“Mmm,” Cas uses their x-ray vision to look straight through Dean. “Your last relationship was with a woman.”

“Yes,” Dean’s heart starts pounding.

“For a long time…?”

“Five years.”

“Ahhh,” Cas nods sagely. “You were married.” 

Dean tenses his jaw, swallowing. “How’d you guess?”

“A corn-bred man like yourself wouldn’t date a woman for that long and not marry her,” Cas says, almost smugly. Damn them. 

“I try to do right by my partners,” Dean says, almost defensively. “She had a kid from a previous asshole, I had a full time job. I wanted to take care of her.”

“You wanted to take care of her, or you felt _obligated_ to take care of her?” 

“I don’t like your questions,” Dean says, eyes narrowed, his heart still thudding. 

“And I don’t like that someone sucked away five years of your life only to end your marriage and send you packing to the other side of the country,” Cas says simply. They wipe their hands with the rag and Dean automatically takes a photo. Fuck. 

“Why are you so interested in all that?” 

Cas rolls their eyes, straightening and sending Dean a dead look. “Because I’m trying to decide between two things for after we have sex: Should I stay to make you breakfast, or do you have so much baggage I need to leave an hour after you fall asleep?” 

This time Dean _does_ drop his phone. Thank God for otterboxes. He fumbles and crouches to start picking up his phone, dropping it three more times before finally picking it up and straightening. “W-well- I- uh- that’s, y’know- you-” 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMAN AND ALL BEAUTIFUL MODELS,” the loudspeaker rings out. “PARADE CARS, PLEASE LINE UP IN LOT Q TO BEGIN THE QUEUE. Heheheheh…” A chorus of groans, then the loudspeaker goes off again. “THE PARADE STARTS IN TWENTY MINUTES, FOLKS! SEE YOU SOON!”

Dean’s frozen. Cas closes the hood of the car, rounds to the passenger side, then arches a brow towards Dean. The expression is sassy, but there’s a hint of hesitation in their eyes.

“Still want me to ride with you, cowboy?” 

“Yes please,” Dean’s mouth replies before his brain can catch up. The sunny smile Cas sends him in return in well worth it. He scrambles to get all of his stuff put in the trunk, and then they both get into the car, Dean thankful that Cas shuts their door with the same care that Dean shuts his own. 

“If you’d prefer a chat over coffee,” Cas says as Dean pulls the car out of its slot, “that’s fine as well.” 

That makes Dean’s stomach shift unpleasantly. “Hey,” he says, feeling bold as he reaches out a hand to gently rest his palm on Cas’s thigh. The pleather stretched over their leg leaves nothing to the imagination. He gives a friendly pat, then withdraws his hand before he can’t contain himself. “I’m in this.” 

“It’s not weird?” Cas asks, clearly just checking and reassuring themself, and Dean. 

“I mean,” Dean shrugs, “just ‘cause it’s new don’t mean it’s weird. And just ‘cause it’s weird don’t mean I don’t like it.” He flashes Cas a smile and a wink, this time feeling genuine about the actions and the flirtatious meaning behind them. “I hope you’re good at makin’ omelets.” 

“I was thinking breakfast sandwiches with waffles as buns,” Cas says thoughtfully.

“Shoot, I should call my ma now and let her know I’ve eloped.” 

The laugh Cas lets out is the most honest one he’s heard all day. They lift their hand to cover their mouth to stifle the noise, causing Dean to reach out and gently grab their wrist. 

“None of that. I wanna hear your laugh. And uh- I also just… y’know, wanna make sure that I don’t do anythin’ to offend you, ok? Any time I do somethin’ stupid, you just let me know.”

“You’re very thoughtful for a man that hasn’t even kissed me yet,” Cas says wryly.

“Oh I’ve kissed you in my head, like, a hundred times since you started flirting,” Dean announces confidently. 

He can feel Cas’s eyeroll. “You’re kind of an idiot.” 

Dean shrugs, grinning as he steers Baby into the queue. “I’ve been told.”

A comfortable silence settles over them for a moment, Dean drumming his fingers idly on the steering wheel as he does his best to take a peek at all of the other cars he hasn’t seen yet. Cas is a good companion, their window down, legs crossed and quiet as they, too, observe their surroundings. Normally Dean would be blasting some Zep or Metallica to get in the mood to show off his Baby but… this is nice, too. Could this be considered a car date? 

“Why didn’t it work out between you and your wife?” 

The question catches Dean off guard. He looks towards Cas, who is still looking out the window, then sighs a little and shrugs. “I’m not sure if it was ever _meant_ to work out. She and I are two… pretty different people. She likes the Homeowners Association, eats nothing but organic, does yoga outside, has ladies over every Tuesday night for book club even though all they do is get together so they can drink wine and talk shit about the ladies who don’t come.”

“Yikes,” Cas says plainly. 

Dean shrugs again. “Yeah. I mean- when we first met? Fireworks. She was hot, she was willing, and we had quite a few tumbles together. Then we started stayin’ at each other’s places when her kid was with his dad. Then I started stayin’ at her place on weeknights. Next thing I knew I was takin’ Ben to his baseball games and mowin’ her lawn and…” he blows out a breath as a raspberry. “It all just kinda snowballed from there.” 

Cas is quiet. When Dean looks at them he sees their gaze on the bumper in front of them, expression thoughtful, brows knit together gently. When they feel Dean looking at them, they turn slightly towards him, expression slightly guarded. “You’re… a really good man, Dean.” 

He flushes, looking straight ahead and shrugging and mumbling, “I mean I guess.” 

Cas hums. “ _Will_ you be calling your mother tomorrow to tell her about me?” 

Dean rubs his eye with his knuckle idly. “Nah. I uh, y’know. Since the divorce I haven’t…” he licks his lips. “Just been me and my work.” 

“Hell of a way to get back into the dating pool,” Cas says dryly.

Dean sneaks a glance. “Dating?” 

Cas rolls their eyes, this time Dean able to see the action and finding it entirely adorable. “Yes, Dean. I’ll at least be up front with you about it. You can’t hit and quit me.”

His lips spread in a grin. “Not if you can make me waffle breakfast sandwiches.” 

The parade starts. Cas sends him a sultry, dark smile, lashes lowered and eyes catching the last rays of the sunset as cars roar around them. “I can do much, much more than that.” 

\--

Dean’s front door bangs open, he and Cas nearly falling through it. Their arms are wrapped around each other, lips locked, feet tripping over each other as they spill into the foyer. Dean moves his foot to kick the door shut as Cas reaches up to start undoing his flannel, giving up halfway through and just tearing it right off his body, buttons skittering across the floor as the shirt follows, nearly in threads. They turn, Dean’s back hitting the wall hard as Cas pins him against it, teeth nipping and biting and yeah, definitely leaving marks as they make their way down his neck. Dean reaches up to try and undo the knot at the front of Cas’s shirt, fingers fumbling and brain definitely not able to focus as their hips start pressing together. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathes out, trying to push at Cas’s chest to get some space. “Baby, we gotta- my room is down the hall-”

“You don’t want to fuck me here?” Cas breathes against the shell of Dean’s ear. He wonders how much red paint is staining his skin. He wonders if there’s any at all, because Cas pulls back to smirk at him, the lipstick on their lips barely out of place. “Come on, old man. Round two can be between the sheets.”

Dean groans, knocking his head back against the wall. It takes a bit for them to finally, _finally_ get undressed, mostly because he’s hampered by every time Cas gropes him or bites him or grinds against him and the discovery that Cas’s pleather pants are a total _bitch_ to get off. Once they’re naked Dean takes the opportunity to swing them around, Cas’s back now against the wall, and much gentler, thank you very much. Cas is rough, manhandling Dean to their content, but Dean shows them a sweeter side as he crowds them against the wall, kissing their neck and sliding his hands down their body. 

Now that the clothes are gone, Dean can get a good look. There’s nothing out of place on Cas, really. Their skin is smooth, tan, and completely free of hair. No tan lines, muscles that are toned but not entirely shredded. With his hands on their hips Dean looks his fill, eyes dragging over every inch of Cas’s body. He can see the masculinity in the sharp planes and ridges, but he can see femininity in the delicate curves and the… the…

“Fuck.”

There are dermal piercings on either of Cas’s hips. White diamonds are stark against their tan skin, glinting in the low light of the hallway. Dean immediately drops to his knees, kissing over each of the piercings and causing Cas to groan in approval. Cas’s erection is hard between their legs, the tip of it bumping against Dean’s chin, and he so desperately wants to put his mouth on it, but he waits. 

“This would be a good time to ask,” Dean says breathlessly. If it were two hours ago over the roof of his car, he wouldn’t be sure or even willing to ask the question. But now that they’re here, sweaty and panting and aroused, he knows in his gut he has to. “Can I do things with your cock?”

Cas lets out a throaty, dark chuckle. Their hips rock forward, nudging their cock against Dean’s skin insistently. “A little. I prefer ass play, but you can do whatever you want to me.” 

Tucking that information away, because he wants to make this as enjoyable for Cas as it will be for himself, Dean presses a kiss to the head of Cas’s cock before wrapping his lips around it and giving a wet, dirty suck. Cas groans, their hands tangling in Dean’s short hair, hips rocking once before they pull away with a gasp. 

“Dean,” they scrabble at his shoulders, pulling him away. Dean looks up at them with concerned eyes, before they explain, “I won’t last.” 

“We’ve got all night,” Dean murmurs, kissing down the length of their shaft. 

“I want you now,” Cas says, rocking their hips forward. “Please.”

“Lube’s in my room,” Dean says, moving to nip at their hip bone. 

Cas hisses impatiently, “ _Then get it._ ” 

Laughing a little to cover up the way his cock drips a blurt of precum, Dean stands and presses a quick kiss to Cas’s lips. “You’re bossy, you know that?” 

Cas shoves at his chest, a grin on their lips and dark, unadulterated want in their eyes. “ _Move._ ” 

Dean’s gone and back in a flash. Cas is turned around facing the wall, chest against it, ass out as their fingers play with their hole, dry. Dean stops a few feet away, jerking his cock and watching as Cas’s prettily manicured nails stretch their cheeks apart and tease their entrance. Cas’s eyes meet Dean’s over their shoulder, lip between their teeth as they rock on the balls of their feet and slip the tip of their index finger into their hole. A smirk curls their lips, the flush on their cheeks visible under their makeup, their body trembling as their dry finger dips further into their dry hole. 

“Dean.” 

Spurred into action, Dean moves forward. He uncaps the lube, drizzles it directly onto Cas’s crack, then starts moving the liquid around with his thumb. Cas melts, cheek pressed against the wall, hands holding their cheeks spread open so Dean can work. His thumb sinks in easily, the heat of Cas’s body nearly short-circuiting his brain. Shifting a little, he moves so he can start kissing across Cas’s shoulders, nipping and biting and treating them much gentler than they handled him. 

“C’mon,” Cas pants. 

“Slow down a little,” Dean replies.

“ _No_ ,” Cas growls, rocking their hips so that Dean’s thumb sinks all the way in. 

“You want it that bad?” Dean asks, a smirk in his voice. He adjusts his angle, instead slipping his index and middle finger into Cas’s sweet heat. 

“Yes,” they pant, wiggling their hips and squirming. 

“I think,” he bites hard enough to leave a mark, “that I’ll take my time with you all night. How’s that sound?” 

“I’ll leave,” Cas announces, though their declaration falls short when it’s punctuated by a moan right when Dean crooks his fingers just right. 

“And miss out on this?” Dean asks. He milks Cas’s prostate, loving the way Cas squirms and rocks back against him while trying to fight the pleasure. Their whole body flushes, pretty under tan skin. 

“Fuck me now,” Cas demands, breathless and low, “ _then_ you can take your time with me.” 

“Say please,” Dean says. He mouths his mouth to Cas’s ear, nipping at the shell, tugging at the small hoop earring dangling from their lobe. 

“Dean-” 

He pulls his fingers out of Cas’s ass, reaching around their body to grip their cock with both hands, staving off any pleasure. “Say please and I’ll do whatever you want, bossy baby.” 

It’s clearly a battle in that pretty head. Cas is demanding, powerful and strong, and though they seem wiry, Dean would bet anything that they could pin him in seconds and take what they want. Honestly, Dean would let them. But getting past this first fuck is going to be on Dean’s terms, as he likes it - just to give Cas a taste of what he can give them. Dean already knows Cas can blow his mind. He just wants to show Cas that he can blow theirs. 

“Please,” Cas grinds out between their teeth.

“Couldn’t hear you,” Dean says casually, biting at the knob of their spine. 

“ _Please_ ,” Cas grits out, pushing their ass back against Dean’s hips, the head of his cock slipping between Cas’s thighs to nudge up against their balls. Dean drizzles more lube down their crack, licking his lips when it warms up from Cas’s body heat before slipping down to his cock. “Dean, for the love of God-” 

Chuckling low, Dean pulls away from Cas’s body, jerking his cock a few times to slick it up. His other hand helps Cas’s spread their ass, the sight of their barely-stretched hole inviting and tempting beyond all belief. “You sure you’re ready?” 

“If you don’t fuck me-” 

Entering Cas’s body is like entering Nirvana. Or like taking a cold drink of water after hiking a desert. Or like warming up in a sauna on a cold day. Or like-

Well. You get the point. 

Cas shifts to put all their weight on the heels of their feet, their ass sucking Dean’s dick in like a freaking vacuum. It takes less than a second for Dean’s pelvis to be pressed against those perfect butt cheeks, his hands moving to hold Cas’s hips to keep them both grounded and upright. He lets out an embarrassing noise while Cas lets out a pleasured groan, their forehead thunking against the wall in relief, like they were about to die if Dean’s cock didn’t get in as deep as possible as fast as possible. 

Cas is needy without words, demanding with all their motions. It doesn’t take long for them to rock their body and encourage Dean to fuck in and out, thumbs pressing bruises into sharp hip bones as Dean starts to pick up the pace. Bracing themselves with one palm against the wall, Cas turns their torso to reach back and tangle their fingers into Dean’s short hair, yanking him closer. Nearly losing his footing, Dean adjusts while he cock pounds deeper into Cas’s body, panting as white hot arousal shoots through his system. 

“You can do better,” Cas says, voice roasted honey as they lick their lips, eyes dark. They’ve got Dean draped entirely over their body, their strong arm holding him in place. 

Adjusting himself, Dean wraps one arm around Cas’s torso, nearly under their armpits due to their height difference. He keeps his other hand on their waist, plants his feet, then presses into Cas’s grip on his hair as he starts pistoning his hips, slamming Cas’s shoulder against the wall with the force of his thrusts. 

Cas lets out a sharp cry, panting and moaning as they tighten their grip on Dean’s hair. They’re gripping it at the back, Dean’s shoulder in their armpit as they press together and Dean tries to get as close as he can. His hand moves from Cas’s waist to slip down to their thigh, hooking his palm under it and lifting it up to balance Cas on one foot, opening them up even further. With this change in position Dean can fuck deeper into Cas, their nails digging into his scalp as he ups the ante. 

“Fuck-” Cas breathes. They don’t whine or whimper or make any sort of forsaking noises while Dean fucks them; their noises are genderless, baseless, out of this world with grunts and groans and declarations of harder, faster, better. Dean can almost believe that Cas _is_ an angel, because he’s surely seeing stars every time Cas’s hot channel clamps down on his cock. 

Cas keeps their body twisted, and Dean stays tangled up with them. There’s clearly better, more efficient ways to fuck against a wall, but this feels so good and so right, every muscle in Dean’s body engaged to keep them both upright as they move. Sweat drips down Cas’s back, their armpits get musky, and Dean just goes and goes and goes. Where their skin touches it slips, where they hold each other it burns, and Dean’s had plenty of sex before, but this is… next level.

Cas is surely not from this world. 

“Dean,” Cas breaks his reverie. 

“Fuck,” Dean finally swears, his mouth suddenly too dry and too wet all at once. He’s barreling towards climax faster than ever before. His tongue swipes out to get at whatever skin he can, licking up perspiration and tasting the sweet tang of whatever body lotion Cas uses. His balls slap, all sorts of unsavory noises getting trapped in the narrow hallway of his foyer, punctuated by Cas’s growls and groans. 

If he’d been worried about how sex would work with Cas, all of those worries fly out of the window. He’s a fucking idiot, realizing this late in the game that he’s fucking _Cas_ , not a specific gender or type of person. What he’s getting at, buried to the hilt with Cas holding him more securely than a seatbelt, is the heart and soul of them. 

Kinda flowery thoughts in the middle of a brutal fucking, but Dean’s sure he gets it now. 

Cas distracts him easily enough. “Are you going to cum, Dean?” How they can speak in full, unbroken sentences still is mindblowing. Dean just pants like an animal in turn. “Fuck, yeah. Fill me up here, Dean. Cum in me- ah, hn- cum in me and…” Their fingers tightening on Dean’s hair, yanking him impossibly closer, their flexible leg going taut in Dean’s hold. “Eat it out.” 

Dean’s never come on command before, but this is damn near close. Just the thought of eating his cum out of Cas’s ass has him exploding, vision going fuzzy and dark before he just closes his eyes and loses himself in release. His dick twitches and pulses for what seems like forever, and when it’s done, Cas barely gives him a chance to catch his breath before they drop their leg and give a WWE wrestler a run for their money. Before Dean knows it he’s on his knees, nose-deep in Cas’s ass, licking the cum from their hole. Cas’s feet are spread wide, ass pressing back and shaking slightly against Dean’s face, their noises finally turning breathy as they chase release. 

The second Dean’s brain finally catches up to the party, Cas’s body seizes as they orgasm. Their cum spills over Dean’s raised hands and shoots out over the wall, Dean hazily pulling away from their hole to see the mess. Cas stays in their position, breathing heavily. Dean surveys everything with some sort of strange peace; he lifts his hands up to his mouth to lick them clean, then dives right back into Cas’s ass, mixing their release and pushing it back into that slick hole, tongue-fucking them leisurely.

“Mmm,” Cas moans in approval, going a little slack against the wall, propped up by their forearms and chest. 

Once Dean’s had his fill, he sits back on his haunches. Cas looks like a wreck, their makeup only a little smudged but their skin flushed and sweat dripping down their spine in rivulets. Their eyes find Dean’s, a kittenish smirk curling over their lips, blue eyes sparkling as they sway their ass from side to side. 

“Not bad,” they say, finally straightening up and turning around to face Dean. They run a hand down their chest, over their stomach, bypassing their still-hard cock as their hands move to their thighs. Their whole body follows the movement as they kneel in front of Dean, leaning towards him and draping their arms over his shoulders, knees slotted and spine dipped prettily, “for round one.” 

Grinning wolfishly, Dean wraps his arms around their waist, drawing them closer. “Not bad for an old man, huh?” 

“We’ll see if you last the night,” Cas says, a wicked gleam in their eyes. They grip Dean’s jaw, submitting him to a messy, deep, aggressive kiss, their tongue swiping over every millimeter of his mouth. Pulling away with a smack and a hum, Cas lifts a manicured finger to wipe at the corners of their mouth, lipstick still perfect as the moment it was applied. 

“I’m willing to find out,” Dean says, boyish grin on his features. “I really want waffle breakfast sandwiches in about twelve hours.”

Cas’s eyes soften just a fraction, before they nod and press a much sweeter, slower kiss to Dean’s lips. “Will you call your mom afterwards?” 

Chewing his lower lip to try and lessen the huge grin on his features, Dean chuckles lightly. “Sweetheart, after you make breakfast, I’ll be taking you right back to bed.” 

The biggest smile Dean has seen yet spreads on their lips. After a shared moment, Cas stands up on unfairly strong legs, turning to head down the hallway to the general direction of Dean’s bedroom. “Then come on, cowboy. We’ve got a long thirty-six hours ahead of us.” 

Dean gets up, his knees cracking in protest. He fights through it, hurrying after Cas. 

Yeehaw, baby.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me who was on the PA system at the road show 🤠  
> stay strong and stay sanitary, my babes 💕  
> p.s. do you know how much of a dick you look like when you comment and all it is, is pointing out a typo? fuck right off with that bullshit, thanks 👌  
> BIG THANK YOU TO [dontbelasagnax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbelasagnax/profile) for being inspired and wonderfully talented and just an amazing human being in general 😍❤


End file.
